


My Side Of The Bed

by bisexualcyborg



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bickering, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualcyborg/pseuds/bisexualcyborg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary, Sherlock and John try to figure out how to fit in the bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Side Of The Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holyfant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyfant/gifts).



> Originally posted on Tumblr as a fill for my Christmas promptfest.

Sherlock crosses his arms over his chest determinedly. “I’m sleeping on the left side!" 

Mary looks up at him, thoroughly unimpressed. “You shared a bed with him maybe three times, Sherlock. I was married to him for six months before we started… this.” She waves a vague hand at the three of them. “The left side is rightfully mine.”

Sherlock’s mouth tightens, and suddenly she feels weirdly guilty. Strange. She doesn’t generally do guilty.

"I can let one of you sleep in the middle, you know,” John pipes in from where he’s sitting on the bed. “That way you’d both be sleeping on my left side.”

Sherlock’s face lights up. “Yes!”

“No.” Mary’s tone is unequivocal. Sherlock’s face falls again, and god, she used to be a fucking assassin, she should be able to resist puppy eyes.

“I’m sorry, love,” she tells Sherlock, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just that you have the most inconsistent sleeping schedule ever. You’d constantly wake us up getting in and out of bed at the oddest hours. You need to sleep on one of the sides.”

Sherlock nods in reluctant agreement, but then a sudden grin appears on his face. 

“And logically,” he says, looking far too pleased with himself, “that should be the side nearest to the door. Which is” - he pauses for effect, the giant drama queen - “the left side.” Mary wants to either punch or snog his smirk off his stupid face. Possibly both. He’d sure like that option.

“Unless…” The smirk is gone and Mary is internally yelling I take it back I take it all back stop looking so fucking dejected! “Unless you’d rather slept downstairs after all?”

“No!” Mary shoots John a helpless look. She doesn’t know how to handle this, and she knows John is not great at emotions, but he has more experience with Sherlock.

John stands up and looks Sherlock in the eye. He’s got his Captain face on, the one Sherlock has yet to prove he can convincingly argue with, but his fingers are wrapped tenderly around Sherlock’s wrist, thumb stroking back and forth over his pale skin.

“That bed cost an absolutely ridiculous amount of money - and no, I will not let you pay for it with Mycroft’s credit card - and I almost threw my back out lugging it up two flights of stairs.” Mary’s own hands still ache too, and Sherlock had to stay on the couch with an icepack on his squashed toes for an hour afterwards, doctor’s orders.

“We didn’t put all that effort into it for nothing, Sherlock,” John continues. “You’re sleeping with us.”

“We want you here, Sherlock. We really do.” Mary takes his other hand and tugs him over to the bed. Who cares about the left side, anyway. She was just arguing for sport.

“Lie down,” she tells Sherlock, and despite all the evidence she has gathered over the last few weeks, she’s still a bit baffled when he obeys her.

She looks at John - “You too.” - and points to the middle of the bed. it really is ridiculously big. That will come in handy. 

Sherlock has automatically assumed the position he sleeps in, curled up on his side, and John lies down so he’s spooning him, his right hand bunched in the red silk of Sherlock’s robe.

Mary sits down on the bed - the right side - and takes off her shoes. She’ll have to get used to walking around barefeet in this house, like her boys do. She cuddles up to John and puts her arm over both him and Sherlock, her and John’s hands resting together on Sherlock’s stomach.

“How’s this, then?” she asks.

“Perfect.” John squeezes her hand. 

Sherlock sighs happily. “Whatever would we do without you?”

“Have slightly less sex and not fight over gigantic beds, probably,” Mary offers. John giggles - how a grown man can have such an endearing giggle, Mary has no idea.

“Sounds dreadfully boring.” Mary is willing to bet Sherlock’s smirk is back. Good.

She smiles against the back of John’s neck and snuggles closer.


End file.
